


Under the Bus

by HarveyDangerfield, LondonQueen001



Series: Pressed Flowers [5]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fights, Hospitalization, M/M, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:46:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarveyDangerfield/pseuds/HarveyDangerfield, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonQueen001/pseuds/LondonQueen001
Summary: The honeymoon period has to end somewhere. After five solid months of bliss, Hugo and Damien get into their first real fight.





	Under the Bus

**Author's Note:**

> HEAVY WARNING for transphobia through the majority of this fic! It's in the tags, and I don't want anybody to be surprised by it! if you're triggered by even the mention of transphobia, you might want to skip this chapter! there's also some pretty brutal descriptions of a fight and hospitalization and surgery, so be forewarned! this chapter is going to be a rough read
> 
> it's also our longest chapter yet, so. there's also that. enjoy!

Ernest had every intention of being nice, honestly. He only approached Lucien with the intention of trying to make up.

  
  
He misses his friend and wants them to be able to hang out again. After the disastrous attempt to get his fathers back together last week, he needs a friend. He hasn’t so much as gotten a single text from Lucien since then, and he doesn’t really... have any other friends, at all. Hugo has just been looking at him sadly for days and trying to have some kind of heart to heart, and he hasn’t felt comfortable talking to his dad since he basically abandoned him when he was fake in trouble, so he’s starting to feel suffocatingly lonely.

  
  
But Lucien is sitting with all his friends, laughing and having fun. If Ernest wasn’t in a supremely bad way he never would have approached at all, but he’s desperate. When Ernest comes up to them, already tripping over his words, he can’t even make eye contact with Lucien. The cool kids always make him nervous and having them there to witness his apology only makes it worse.

  
  
“Lucien?” He says, head bowed so he doesn’t have to look up into the judgmental eyes of Lucien’s friends. “You got a minute?”

  
  
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Lucien turns to the side on the bench of the cafeteria table, crooking one knee up and leaning back on his elbow on the table. He doesn’t look particularly interested, and even a little bit smug. Ernest hates how Lucien always acts a little bit mean when he’s around his friends.

  
  
“Could we like, go somewhere?” Ernest feels his face going hot.

  
  
“No thanks, I’m comfy,” Lucien says. A few of his friends snicker. “What’s up?”

  
  
Ernest glares at him. This is not how this is supposed to go. He can't apologize in front of all these assholes. And he doesn't want to when Lucien is acting like this. "Want to see a movie after school? Hugo and Damien have a date or whatever and I stole 20 bucks yesterday." He mumbles. It's not what he had planned to say but if Lucien accepts at least they'll be hanging out again.

  
  
“I dunno,” Lucien draws out his words. “You were a fucking asshole last time we hung out. Do you remember that? I remember that. But here, let me give you an offer. Meet me halfway. I’ll hang out with you again, if you apologize for what you said about my dad. And- _and_. Say that you hope my dad and your dad will be happy together forever.”

  
  
"Fuck you Lucien." Ernest snaps back. "Your dad's a weirdo and you know it. You've said so yourself enough times, I'm not apologizing for telling the truth. And they aren't staying together. One of them will come to their senses eventually."

  
  
Lucien’s lip twitches a little bit, but he manages to maintain his composure and his smirk. “Then I guess you’ll have to go to the movies by yourself,” he says casually, shrugging a shoulder. “Cause I’m not hanging out with a little dick juggler who can’t even apologize when he’s being an asshole.”

  
  
His friends back him up with a scathing, combined “ooooh.” Ernest glares at all the older kids sitting behind Lucien. "Shut up. Bunch of fucking brain dead pricks."

  
  
His heart is pounding, anger and fear and disappointment turning into a nasty slurry in his chest. "I don't even know why I wanted to hang out with you in the first place." He growls, turning his ire on Lucien. His face is burning with anger and embarrassment now and his hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides. "You're a fucking cunt. You think you're so cool but you're just a pussy little daddy's boy. Go to hell."

  
  
Lucien is still smirking. “At least I _have_ a relationship with _my_ dad. Hey, maybe that’s what you need. Maybe this weird, creepy obsession you have with your dad is because _you_ wanna date him. Go make out with your fucking dad and get out of my face.”

  
  
Ernest's blood is boiling at this point. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears and he doesn't mean to say what comes next but in his anger is comes tearing out of him before he can stop himself.

 

"Don't you mean your _mom?_ That's why our parents are never gonna work. My dad's _gay_ and your _slut mom_ is never gonna be what he wants!"

  
  
Lucien’s smile immediately vanishes. His friends go deathly silent behind him- in fact, most of the cafeteria does. Ernest had been considerably louder than he meant to. Even those who didn’t hear his words still look over and see what looks like a brewing altercation between the pair, with Ernest standing with his fists clenched over a stone-faced Lucien.

  
  
Very calmly, Lucien swings his legs over the bench of the table. He stands to his full height, towering over Ernest by seven inches. He can see Ernest visibly shaking, but he doesn’t back down. Quietly, so quietly that only Ernest can hear him, he says,

  
  
“You wanna try that one again?”

  
  
"Your _mom_ is a fucking cunt." Ernest growls because there's no way he's backing down now. He can't, not in front of everyone. He isn't about to slink off, defeated, and let Lucien and his friends laugh at him. The school would never stop talking about him for the rest of his miserable life.

  
  
At first, Lucien doesn’t do anything, and it looks like Ernest might have called his bluff. But then the lunch attendant steps into the room from where she’d been out in the hall and cries out, “Mr. Bloodmarch!”

  
  
As the spell of silence breaks, Lucien reaches up behind Ernest’s head, grabs a fistful of his hair and spins, bringing his head down and smashing it into the table.

 

============================================================================================

  
  
  
School isn’t dismissed, but it might as well be. By the size of the crowds of students and concerned parents crowding up against the windows and out on the front lawn of the school surrounding the police car and ambulance, it seems like there couldn’t possibly be anybody left to be in class, and teachers have long since given up attempting to corral the onlookers, focusing instead on at least keeping them off the sidewalk.

  
  
Many cell phones are up and recording as an unconscious Ernest is wheeled by on a stretcher with a bloody face and a neck brace, while Hugo has his blazer spread open in his hands, attempting to shield Ernest from view.

  
  
Damien is just a few paces behind, red-faced and bodily dragging Lucien by the arm, who’s shouting, “You don’t GET it! You didn’t--”

  
  
“I don’t want to _HEAR_ it Lucien!” Damien is close to tears in the combination of grief, shame and fear for Ernest. Mary is just down the sidewalk with her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a thin line, ready to receive Lucien. She opens the door to her suv, and Damien shoves Lucien inside. He looks up and makes eye contact with Hugo, who is hyperventilating near the back doors of the ambulance as the medics lift up the wheels of the stretcher to load Ernest inside.

  
  
“You’ll be okay, Dames?” Mary asks, her voice tight with concern as she closes the car door.

  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Damien says, though he’s visibly trembling. “Just keep him contained until I can get home. I don’t know how long I’ll be at the hospital, I may be overnight.”

  
  
“Hey, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s wrangling brats, “Mary gives Damien’s arm a squeeze. “Go with him, I’ve got your boy covered.”

  
  
Damien wants to hug her, but he can already hear Hugo calling for him. He’ll have time to show her his gratitude later, and he spins, cloak billowing behind him as he makes haste to climb into the back of the ambulance with Hugo.

  
  
Hugo is seated next to Ernest in the ambulance, holding his son's hand and unable to tear his eyes away from his face which is already starting to swell in places and darken with bruises. He only spares Damien a quick glance when the other man climbs into the ambulance with them and the doors close behind him.

  
  
He can't bring himself to say anything while they ride to the hospital, attention entirely focused on Ernest. He stays unconscious most of the ride though his eyes do crack open for a few seconds and a strained, whimpered 'Dad?' passes his lips and brings tears to Hugo's eyes before he drops off again.

  
  
It's only when they arrive and Ernest is wheeled away to be examined by the doctors that Hugo turns to Damien. "He's going to be alright. Lucien couldn't have really hurt him. It looks worse than it is, right?"

  
  
“Lucien isn’t very strong,” Damien reassures Hugo, cupping his face in both hands. There’s not a lot of activity in the waiting room at this time of day, so they mostly have privacy, save for a few sick and infirm shuffling around. “The amount of blood vessels in the face make facial injuries seem much worse than they actually are. I remember one time I got a tiny cut on my eye when I was hit with a softball, and it bled so much for so long I thought it would never stop. Ernest will be absolutely fine. And when he’s stable and comfortable, I’ll go home and give Lucien a talking to the likes of which the world has never seen.”

  
  
Hugo nods and drops into one of the nearest seats. "I have no idea what happened. Lucien's never been violent before. He and Ernest have had a few disciplinary issues in the past and Ernest has gotten into more than his share of fights but it's never been like this. And Lucien is such a good kid."

  
  
“I don’t know either,” Damien says, sitting beside Hugo and taking one of his hands in both of his. “I’ve already heard so many different accounts and it’s barely been an hour. I don’t think we’ll know for sure until we can get the story from both of them. We can’t know how truthful they’ll be, but...” he squeezes Hugo’s hands. This is so terrifying, for both of them.

  
  
They sit there in relative silence for about an hour before a nurse comes out and scans the waiting room, her eyes falling on the frazzled pair huddled in the corner. They’re on their feet before she can even call their names, and they follow her down the hall.

  
  
“Ernest only required very minimal surgery,” she explains as she pulls the curtain back from the bed. Ernest is much more cleaned up, all the blood is gone from his face, but that doesn’t soften the blow of his appearance very much. His right eye socket is puffy and purple all the way around his eye, with a line of black stitches right below the lower eyelid. His jaw on the same side is swollen and bruised, and there’s even a bruise forming around the needle in his left elbow. He looks so incredibly small, lying in a hospital bed in a paper gown. Tears immediately fill Damien’s eyes.

  
  
"He's alright though? How long until he wakes up?" Hugo asks, moving away from Damien to stand by Ernest's side.

  
  
He gently reaches out to brush the boy's hair away from his face. Ernest looks so small and vulnerable in the hospital bed. And so young. The way he talks and acts it's easy to forget sometimes that he's still such a young child. Seeing him like this brings tears to Hugo's eyes.

  
  
“He should wake up some time in the next hour,” the nurse says, setting the clipboard back in the slot at the end of Ernest’s bed. “He’ll be just fine. He fractured his cheekbone pretty badly, and the doctor had to pull out a couple bone shards, but he only needed six stitches. His jaw is fine, that’s just bruising and some swelling, that’ll go down with medication. The worst of his trauma is the sprain of the C5 vertebrae in his neck.”

  
  
Damien makes a soft noise of concern, his hand flattening to his chest. “It’s worse than it sounds,” the nurse reassures him. “It basically means he got one bad, bad case of whiplash. He’ll be fine if he just doesn’t jerk his head around violently at all in the next few weeks. He’d be safest if you could convince him to wear the neck brace, but I’ve got twin girls about his age, so I wish you luck with that.”

  
  
“But no lasting damage,” Damien breathes a sigh of relief.

  
  
“No, nothing seriously traumatic,” the nurse confirms. “He should be back to normal by Halloween.”

  
  
Hugo sighs in relief. "Thank you nurse." He says, nodding to her. She nods back and leaves so it's just the two men and Ernest left in the hospital room.

  
  
"I should call Victor. Let him know what happened." Hugo says half heartedly. He doesn't want to deal with that phone call but Victor has every right to know what happened to their son. "And a few other people should know before anything gets out on social media. Grandparents, his bio mom. They should hear it from me."

  
  
Damien nods, and squeezes Hugo’s hand. “I’ll stay here with him,” he says, and releases his hand to draw a chair up beside Ernest’s bed while Hugo steps out into the hall to make several stressful phone calls.

  
  
As expected the call with Victor does not go well, and while the other calls aren't as hard they don't go by much faster, everyone needing a full recount of the story and Ernest's condition and wanting to know when they can come see him.

  
  
All of which means Hugo is still out in the hall thirty minutes later when Ernest's eyes slowly flutter open. He winces at the harsh light of the hospital room, then again as the movement sends a shock of pain through his face and neck. He blinks a few times to clear his vision and looks around, landing on Damien sitting beside him.

  
  
"What are you doing here?" he croaks out. "Where's dad?"

  
  
“He’s out in the hallway making phone calls,” Damien says softly. Ernest has one hell of a concussion, and he doesn’t want to make it any worse by speaking too loudly. His eyes are puffy and ringed red, and his voice is a little thick. “We were both so worried about you. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

  
  
"Hurts. Got painkillers?" Ernest asks, his voice rough. He can't look Damien in the eye, not after what he said. Knowing he's been crying over him doesn't make it any better. He glances towards the door instead. "Where's Lucien? He alright?"

  
  
Damien is surprised to hear Ernest asking after Lucien, as he picks up the little paper cup with the painkiller in it that the nurse had left out for him, and he dumps the pill into Ernest’s open mouth, holding up a cup of ice water for him to sip from through an orange straw.

  
  
“For now,” he says, unsure of what Ernest is hoping to hear. “He won’t be after I’m through with him.”

  
  
Ernest gratefully accepts the water so he doesn't have to speak right away. After a few sips he pulls away, signaling to Damien to put the water down.

  
  
"Wasn't totally his fault. I was an ass," he admits, mind a little hazy. "Tell him I said sorry."

  
  
"You can tell him yourself later." Hugo says, coming back inside. He sits down next to Ernest and gently brushes his hair back again. "For now you need to rest and get better so you can go home tomorrow, okay?"

  
  
“Okay,” Ernest mumbles sleepily. “Thanks... dad.”

  
  
He’s asleep again in seconds, and Damien turns once again tear-filled eyes up to Hugo, who he sees has tears in his own as well. He clucks and stands up, coming around the bed to sit on the same edge with Hugo, and he pulls him down to pillow his head against Damien’s shoulder, gently pulling off his glasses and tucking them in his pocket so he can hug the man’s head to his chest.

  
  
“It’ll be okay,” he whispers, carding his fingers soothingly through Hugo’s hair. “You’re such a good father.”

  
  
"Not good enough. If I was this sort of thing wouldn't happen." He says, unintentionally echoing Victor's words from their phone call. "My son is in the hospital because he got into a fight at school. This sort of thing shouldn't happen. And with his record it's only a matter of time before the consequences add up and he gets in serious trouble."

  
  
Damien rocks him slightly, running his fingers through his hair. “You can’t control Ernest,” he murmurs softly. “All you can do is love him. And you love him so completely. Nobody could ever love him as much as you do. You have to have faith in yourself that it will be enough. Some day, it will be enough.”

  
  
He tries Hugo’s tears and gives him a tender, brief kiss before they slip out of the room to find a vending machine and do something about their dehydration headaches from all their crying. Neither of them hear the single, pitiful sob that leaves Ernest.

  
  
By the time Damien gets to Mary’s house, where Lucien has been forcibly roped into helping Joseph frost cookies for that weekend’s bake sale, it’s nearly eight pm. Lucien looks like his brains are about to leak out of his ears if he has to hear any more of Joseph’s proselytizing, and Damien almost considers leaving him there just to punish him, but he wouldn’t do that to Joseph and Mary.

  
  
He sends Lucien to walk home alone so he can have a short conversation with Joseph and Mary, who assure him that Lucien was pretty surly all afternoon, but he didn’t try to smash any more heads into any more tables. He thanks them both profusely for looking after Lucien for him, and makes plans to take Mary to lunch later in the week before bidding the beautiful family good night and crossing the cul-de-sac to his house.

  
  
Lucien is already blaring music from his bedroom by the time Damien is hanging his cloak in the foyer. He sighs wearily, and considers knocking, but he decides instead to slip a note under his door and turn in early so he can take a nice long bath and get plenty of sleep before the steadily approaching nightmare of tomorrow. 

  
_Dearest Lucien,_   
  
_I want you to know as always, I still love you, as I will always love you. However, at the moment, I am rather furious with you. If you promise not to leave the house tomorrow, then I will allow you to keep your phone for the time being, but if you try to test my boundaries I will take further action._   
  
_I encourage you to text Ernest at some point. You were one of the first things he asked about when he awoke in the hospital. I assume the two of you have a lot to talk about. We will have a very long discussion tomorrow over dinner._   
  
_Please try to get some sleep tonight._   
  
_Your loving father,_   
_D. Bloodmarch_

  
  
Hugo stays with Ernest in the hospital all night, managing to catch a few uncomfortable hours of sleep in the chair beside his bed. The nurses come to check on him every few hours and are always kind enough to give Hugo an update on his son's condition. He seems to be fine but they remind him that he'll need to relax and stay fairly immobile for a while, even after going home.

  
  
Ernest wakes up a few times despite the heavy painkillers he's been given, but he and Hugo never talk about what happened. The atmosphere in the room is tense but they both seem to have reached a silent agreement that now is not the time to talk about it. Instead they watch tv together and complain about the terrible hospital food that's brought up for dinner.

  
  
It break Hugo's heart later when he realizes that it's probably the nicest night they've spent together in a long time.

  
  
Hugo gets Ernest home and sets him up on the couch, worried that going up and down stairs will be too much effort or even dangerous if his medicine makes him woozy. After that there's a seemingly unending stream of visitors, starting with Victor who comes by with a bag full of DVDs and video games for Ernest and a look that basically dares Hugo to complain about spoiling their son. He doesn't, and the visit is mercifully short. Then it's grandparents and friends and the rest of the dads in the neighborhood who all want updates.

  
  
Damien and Hugo don’t actually see very much of one another over the next few days. A meeting with the superintendent at school is scheduled for that Saturday, which isn’t really enough time as far as Hugo is concerned for Ernest, but surprisingly, he actually agrees to wear the brace. His neck must be pretty damn sore for him to not even fight the idea of a neck brace.

  
  
Of course neither Lucien nor Ernest go to school for the rest of the week, but nobody expected them to do. Social media is in a goddamn frenzy over what happens, with some recounts getting as dramatic as accusations that Lucien had pulled a knife and stabbed Ernest.

  
  
Damien has absolutely no luck getting Lucien to open up about what happened. He shuts down at every attempt, and won’t even leave his room. At a loss for what to do, Damien simply forbids him from leaving the house, but otherwise leaves him to his own devices. He won’t know how harshly he should punish Lucien until he knows how harshly the _school_ will punish him.

  
  
By the time Saturday rolls around, Hugo is almost thankful for the meeting with the superintendent because it means at least a little time out of the house with no one asking questions and bothering him for information. And maybe now he'll get some answers because Ernest has been painfully tight lipped about the whole thing since they got home.

  
  
Damien meets them at the school just a few minutes before their meeting time. Ernest is still wearing the brace, and it doesn’t escape either of their notice that he and Lucien share a very sad look as they enter the school in a cluster. There’s a police officer present in the conference room they get set up in, as well as the principal, vice principal, and superintendent. There’s a tape recorder set up in the middle of the table, and the record button is pressed before they even begin.

  
  
Lucien seems unimpressed, slumped in his seat, and he crosses his arms over his chest. The principal sighs. “Look, boys, none of us want to be here, let’s try to resolve this as swiftly as possible. Who would like to go first?” Neither Lucien nor Ernest speak up. Hugo and Damien look at eachother worriedly. “Alright, I’ll go first,” the principal continues. “According to multiple witnesses, there was a short altercation, provoked by Mr. Vega, in which the only blow that came to pass was from Mr. Bloodmarch, would you both say that’s accurate?”

  
  
“Yeah, whatever,” Lucien doesn’t look up.

  
  
"Ernest." Hugo prompts, glancing at his son who can't slump down in his seat in his usual manner thanks to the neck brace. "Is that what happened?"

  
  
"Yeah I guess." He grumbles, unable to look at his father or Lucien and Damien.

  
  
“Alright,” the principal says. “Would either of you like to tell your sides of the story?” Once again, neither Ernest nor Lucien speak up. The principal is already starting to look weary. “Okay, if neither of you want to talk about it, then I could just give my verdict.”

  
  
“Now come on,” Damien says, trying to sound soothing as he looks at his son. “You don’t want to talk about it at all?”

  
  
“Not really,” Lucien mutters.

  
  
“Ernest?” Damien worriedly looks over at Hugo, and then past him to the other teen. He also doesn’t move.

  
  
“Alright. After consulting the other staff present and our student code of conduct, and the past offenses from both of these boys, I think Lucien should be suspended for six weeks, and Ernest expelled from our school altogether.”

  
  
"Now hold on!" Hugo says, practically jumping out of his chair. Ernest can't get expelled. He can't let this mar his son's record that much. "Hasn't Ernest suffered enough? He spent the night in the hospital for Christ's sake. He's got a sprained neck and had to have bone shards removed from his face. All he did was talk. I don't know what he said but I'd say he's more than gotten what was coming to him. In school suspension would be a more fitting punishment."

  
  
Damien’s stomach drops. Expulsion seems like such a heavy punishment, but he’s almost afraid to speak up for fear that the principal would deem his own son worthy of expulsion too. But he’ll speak up for Ernest, he has to- or, he would have. But no sooner has he opened his mouth before Lucien bursts out with,

  
  
“He called my dad a _girl_ ,” his voice is heated, and shaking just a little bit. “And I told him to take it back and he said it _again_.”

  
  
Damien feels his throat clench up, and he turns a somewhat dazed expression in Ernest’s direction, whose entire body is turned a little bit away, in lieu of the ability to turn his neck.

  
  
Hugo stares at Lucien for a second, hoping the boy will say something else, say that he's lying maybe. Ernest would never say such a thing. But when he turns to look at his own son he sees the guilt written across his face and the tightness of his body and knows it's true. His heart breaks a little and they are absolutely going to have to talk about this but he pushes the sadness aside to focus on the moment. Right now the most important thing is keeping Ernest in school.

  
  
"St- still," He says, stammering a little. He can hardly believe he's about to defend this kind of behavior, especially in front of poor Damien who looks like he’s just been slapped in the face, but he has to be a good father and put his son first. "Even still. It was just words. Ernest never threw a punch." He says to the principal. "Lucien put him in the hospital. He's going to be recovering for a month and he's lucky there's no permanent damage. Ernest's punishment shouldn't be any more severe than Lucien's."

  
  
“Hugo,” Damien whispers it so quietly it almost can’t be heard, his heart breaking.

  
  
“He fucking started it,” Lucien says. “He said that shit twice, I gave him a chance to take it back and he fucking didn’t, what was I supposed to say? ‘Oh haha sorry didn’t hear you the first time, we’re cool now.’ He said he’s my _mom_ , he said-”

  
  
“Lucien,” Damien murmurs, putting a hand on his son’s shoulders. He looks like he might be close to tears, but he manages to maintain his composure. “While I appreciate you defending my honor, you have to know it was wrong to hurt him. I thought he was your friend.”

  
  
“Yeah, I fucking thought so too,” Lucien says, his voice still shaking. “He should have fucking known better, you’ve never been anything but nice to him and he should have fucking known better.”

  
  
The principal seems very uncomfortable. “Just given the track record of these two, Ernest has gotten in trouble significantly more often than Lucien. It isn’t just a matter of this case, it’s a pattern of behavior that we have to look at. And frankly, we’ve already given him more chances than the average student because he’s the son of one of our teachers.”

  
  
"I know. And I know my son was wrong here. But he's just a kid. And angry kid who can't always control himself. Sending him away from the few friends he has, forcing him into an entirely new environment is only going to hurt him more." Hugo says, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He can't look at Damien, it hurts too much and he has to stay focused. "Look at him. If you think he hasn't learned from this already do you really think expulsion is going to help? Lucien is nearly an adult, he should have known better than to react with violence but you want to expel Ernest over this? That's hardly fair."

  
  
Damien can feel his heart pounding, and his face going red. He suddenly wants to retreat from the room and take several minutes just to breathe deeply. Lucien, however, seems incensed.

  
  
“So you just think he should get away with that shit?” he challenges Hugo directly. He looks honestly terrified, his hands shaking even clenched in fists on the table. “Fuck, maybe Ernest _was_ right. Maybe you _don’t_ care about my dad cause _you_ think he’s a girl too.”

  
  
“Alright, that’s enough,” the principal says, before either Hugo or Damien can say anything. “I’ve heard your case, Mr. Vega, but you have to understand what thin ice Ernest is on. _Has been_ on.”

  
  
"Tobias," Hugo says, looking the principal dead in the eye. They've known each other long enough that he's done playing around with false formality. "I have worked at this school since Ernest was six years old. Of course I know his record and I know the sort of trouble he's been in. I know he's been on his last chance too many times to count and it's only by the grace of god and our friendship that he's still here. And if this had come down to him saying those awful, hateful things and Lucien coming to you to report him I wouldn't argue with you. But he didn't come to you and report Ernest, he _put him in the hospital_. He very nearly broke his neck. If I were anyone else you would have a court case on your hands not a meeting in your office. You can't expel Ernest over this. Not with what he's been through. Not this time."

  
  
Damien feels it like a shock to his heart, and doesn’t really hear much of anything else after that for the rest of the meeting, he just kind of zones out. Before he knows it, everyone else is standing up, and he dazedly blinks back into reality, into the face of Lucien who is helping him stand up.

  
  
“Oh I- I apologize I- what did- how-?” he stammers.

  
  
“We both got suspended for six weeks,” Lucien answers. “You... okay, dad?”

  
  
“I don’t know,” Damien says reflexively, before shaking his head. “I mean- no, I mean, yes. I’ll be... I’m fine.”

  
  
Hugo shoots Damien a sad look as they all shuffle out of the school into the parking lot. "Get in the car Ernest, I'll be there in a minute." he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Luckily Ernest doesn't try to back talk him and hurries off to the waiting car, eager to get away from everyone.

  
  
Shaking his head Hugo turns back to Damien. "He is in so much trouble. I don't even know where to begin punishing him at home. At least no one was expelled."

  
  
Damien almost doesn’t hear him, he’s so foggy. The pain in his chest has climbed up to live in his throat, making the space behind the corners of his jaw ache and feel hot. He meets Hugo’s eye, and all he can muster for a few seconds is a sort of lost, pained expression as Lucien goes slinking by to climb into Damien’s car.

  
  
“What _was_ that in there?” Damien finally says, shaking his head slightly. “I... I feel like I don’t even know... who you were back there.”

  
  
"What do you mean?" Hugo asks, honestly confused, and a little taken off guard. "I was just trying to protect Ernest. He can't get expelled, he won't be able to handle it. A whole new school with people he doesn't know? It would destroy him. I had to keep him here."

  
  
“Did you have to throw my son under the bus to do it?” Damien’s voice tremors. “You treated him like a criminal back there. You’ve known him for years, and you know he’s never been violent before. Ernest provoked him- quite cruelly, I might add- and... all you had to say was, he couldn’t have known? My son, whose track record is far shorter than Ernest’s, simply transformed into a violent monster apropos of nothing?”

  
  
"All I said was that they should have equal punishments. Lucien was going to be suspended, I wasn't trying to get him into more trouble. But he did put Ernest in the hospital. His anger was justified but he seriously hurt my son." Hugo says, starting to feel a little angry. Didn't Damien understand, he had to protect Ernest? He cares about Lucien, of course but his duty as a father comes first. "I had to do what's best for Ernest and keep him from being expelled. Lucien isn't being punished anymore than he already was going to be."

  
  
“Why _did_ he say those things, Hugo?” Damien’s voice trembles a little worse now, and he has to fight to keep a quiver out of his lip. “Why _didn’t_ he know better? Isn’t it your job to educate him about this sort of thing? Both your job as a parent in general, but even more importantly, your job as a parent who is dating a... man like me. Have you simply never spoken to him about this?”

  
  
"Of course I have! I'm not defending what he said! I thought he knew better, I thought, growing up with two gay dads he would understand." Hugo glances towards the car and shakes his head. "What he said wasn't right, of course it wasn't. But right now the most important thing to me was doing what was right for him. In the hospital you said what made me a good parent was that I love my son more than anything and I would do anything for him. That's exactly what I did today."

  
  
“I don’t... think I can talk to you anymore right now,” Damien says, his breathing is starting to shudder now, and he can’t quite meet Hugo’s eye. “I... I’m sorry, but I think I’m quite cross with you right now.”

  
  
He turns before he has a chance to say anything much worse than that, his cloak billowing behind him as he crosses the parking lot and climbs into his car, where he manages to shut the door before he breaks down.

  
  
Hugo sighs and let's him go, taking a minute to catch his breath before going to his own car. This isn't how this was supposed to go. He had to protect Ernest, that had to be the right thing to do, as a father. It's his job to stick up for his son before anyone else.

  
  
Why _would_ Ernest have said those things? He knows better. He has to, Hugo thinks as he crosses the parking lot. He raised him better. Or he thought he did. And now Damien is furious with him. How could everything have gone so wrong? He reaches the car and climbs into the driver's seat without a word to Ernest. He spares one glance towards Damien's car before pulling out of the parking lot and starting towards home.

  
  
Ernest wasn’t going to say anything, he really wasn’t. At least not right away. He’s caused enough trouble already by running his mouth, he wasn’t going to say anything. But he can keep feeling Hugo’s eyes boring into him without even looking up to confirm that he keeps looking over, and then Hugo says,

  
  
“Say it.” and, well, he literally asked for it.

  
  
“So are you and Damien gonna break up now?” he says the only thing on his mind, which Hugo already probably saw coming.

  
  
"I don't know. I honestly don't know, Ernest, is that what you want to hear? It's possible. You really fucked up this time." He says, too angry to moderate his language. His hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard it hurts but he can't make himself relax. "Is that why you said it? So Damien and I would break up? Is that why you said the most vile and hateful thing you could imagine?" He accuses. "Am I just not allowed to be happy, Ernest, is that it? I finally found someone who makes me happy, and you hate me so much you can't let me have that?"

  
  
They swing into their driveway and Hugo turns off the car but makes no move to get out. There's tears in his eyes as he stares straight ahead at their house because he can't bring himself to turn and look at Ernest. "I have never been so angry and disappointed in my life, Ernest. Truly. I don't even know where to start teaching you how wrong you were. So here's what we're going to do. You're going to go inside and go up to your room and you're not going to come back downstairs until you've written two, genuine, heartfelt apology letters. One for Lucien and one for Damien. And I'm going to go inside and start looking for therapists and anger management for you because we can't keep doing this. Do you understand?"

  
  
Ernest says absolutely nothing. He just scowls forward at the house. “You just don’t get it, you don’t _get it,_ ” he accuses right back. “Your stupid parents are still together, grandma and grandpa never even so much as broke up since high school, you don’t have any idea what it’s like, you don’t have any idea! You don’t get it, you don’t get how I have to _get away from you_ to ever feel happy cause ever since you divorced dad you’re just angry and mean all the fucking time!”

  
  
He throws the car door open and fights with his seat belt, tears in his own eyes now. “And then I go hang out with dad and I have to listen to _him_ talk about how angry and mean you are too! I’m sick of it! Just stop being an asshole!” he slams the car door shut and storms inside, much too quickly for his current state, scaling the stairs and refusing to stop until he gets up to his room and collapses in his bed.  

  
  
Hugo is stunned into silence, and doesn't follow him into the house. He stays in the car trying to breathe but no matter how many deep breaths he takes he can't seem to stop the burning in his lungs or the stinging in his eyes. After a few minutes he gives up and just rests his head on the steering wheel and cries.

  
  
He wants to go to Damien, he wants to collapse against him and let the other man hold him and tell him it'll be alright. That he can still get through to Ernest and fix this and undo all the lies Victor is telling him.

  
  
God, how much has Victor been saying behind his back? Has he been telling Ernest awful things about him for years, filling his head with his poison? He hadn't thought he'd sink so low. Hugo had never, in all the years they'd been apart, said a bad word about Victor in front of Ernest and wouldn't allow anyone else to either. He's Ernest's father, he always considered it a given that he couldn't come between them. Apparently Victor didn't see it that way.

  
  
He looks towards Damien's house, but he knows he can't go there. He can't turn to him after everything that just happened. It's very likely Damien will never want to see him again after he threw Lucien under the bus, even if it hadn't been his intention.

  
  
Eventually he cries himself out and goes inside to his study. He doesn't have the energy to do much but he forces himself to pull out some of his books on Victorian culture. Maybe his and Damien's relationship will never be back to what it was, maybe Damien will never fully forgive him, but he has to at least try.

  
  
Over the next couple of days, he sees neither hide nor hair of Damien. He doesn’t exactly _mean_ to creep, but he can’t quite help it. Ernest has scarcely left his room either, except to go to the bathroom, and spends much of his time sleeping under heavy painkillers. The school awarded him with just one week of paid leave, he’ll have to figure out what to do for the remaining five weeks of Ernest’s suspension, unwilling to just leave him home alone.

  
  
Robert comes to mind, that man seems to be a surprisingly good influence on Ernest, but he’ll have to check with him. Maybe he could work it out so everybody in the neighborhood only has to deal with Ernest for one week instead of-

  
  
God, and listen to him. The way he thinks about his own son, the language he uses in his own mind when talking about his boy. ‘Deal with him’ like a pest. Perhaps Ernest and Victor have been right all along, perhaps he is angry and mean. Damien would know exactly what to say in this situation, but he hasn’t seen him so much as come outside to get the mail in four days.

  
  
So when he hears his doorbell go off that afternoon, he practically leaves a trail of fire behind him in his haste to get downstairs, hoping to god that it’s Damien. He tugs the door open, perhaps a little too fast, and to his surprise he finds himself face to face with Lucien, as undressed as he’s ever seen the boy, with no makeup or accessories, just a very tired expression behind an unruly curtain of silver hair.

  
  
"Lucien. Is everything alright?" He asks, stepping aside to invite him in. "You don't look so well, are you sick? Can I get you anything?" He almost wants to check if he has a fever but restrains himself. He isn't Lucien's father and after everything that happened he has no right to try to take care of him. "If you're here to see Ernest I'm sorry to say that's impossible. He's grounded and won't be allowed to see anyone for a few weeks at least."

  
  
“Uh, no, actually, I’m here to see you,” Lucien says. He sounds a little uncomfortable, and a little strained. “It’ll have to uh... be kind of quick, too, cause I snuck out to come over here. Dad’s in the garden though, so I think I have like an hour. You won’t rat me out, right?”

  
  
Hugo shakes his head. "No, I won't. Is everything alright? Is your father okay?" he asks, suddenly worried. If something is wrong with Damien he needs to know, he needs to try to help somehow.

  
  
“Not... really, no,” Lucien admits. “That’s why I’m here. He keeps doing the wistful victorian shit, gazing longingly out windows, starting and scrapping letters dramatically, spending hours just standing in his freaking garden staring at nothing, I keep expecting to come out of my room to find him flung out on the stairs weeping in a robe. He’s in rough shape, man. Uh, I mean, Mr. Vega.”

  
  
"Outside of school, why don't you call me Hugo?" he offers. He sighs, thinking about Damien. He's dramatic but it comes from a place of genuine emotion. If he's this bad he must be as sad as Hugo himself. "I miss him too Lucien. More than I can tell you. I want to do something to show him how sorry I am, but I wasn't sure he'd accept it. You think he would?"

  
  
“Uh, yeah, for sure. I think he’s like... praying that you will, honestly. I think he’s scared to go to you first and like, super hoping that you’ll go to him. And actually, I already have an idea. It’s a little crazy, so you gotta cover for me. But if it works out... I think it’ll be perfect.”

 

"You have my attention," Hugo  is already reaching for his coat.

 

"Oh, and uh, Mr... uh, Hugo?" Lucien can't quite meet his eye as Hugo shrugs on his coat. "I'm sorry about what I said... you know. In the thing.

 

Hugo smiles and puts a hand on Lucien's shoulder. "Already forgiven, son."  
  


 

================================================= **==============================================**  
  


 

The first thing Damien felt when he came back inside to an empty house was worried. He thought perhaps Lucien was in the bathroom, but those were empty as well. He’s absolutely expressly forbidden to leave the house at any point, and so it swiftly turns to anger.

  
  
He immediately tries to call Lucien, already incensed, but his calls all go to voicemail. He can’t believe the nerve of Lucien, to just leave the house! Did he honestly think he just wouldn’t notice? Wouldn’t think to check?

  
  
After his fourteenth call, he finally receives a text message that makes his blood boil.

  
  
_God, what?_

  
  
He types back a furious response, _Lucien, pardon my language, but where the hell are you??_

  
  
In just under a minute he gets a reply. _I left to get a sandwich downtown, its whatever._

  
  
Damien very nearly breaks his phone in half with the force he types out his reply, Y _ou know very well I forbade you from leaving the house! Where are you, I’m coming to pick you up right this moment._

  
  
He gets a surprisingly quick and painless response, _I’m at Subaroo in Salem, just like mapquest it or something._

  
  
And mapquest it he does. He’s in his car in a flash, and driving towards Salem. He went all the way to _Salem??_ That’s a twenty minute bus ride, how could he have thought this was okay?! He’s fuming the whole ride there, thinking up all the cross words he’s going to say to Lucien and all the ways he’s going to double down on his punishments, so when he parks in the lot at the sub shop and climbs out of the car scanning the area for Lucien, he doesn’t even notice it until he’s on the sidewalk.

  
  
Across the street from the shop, in front of a sprawling, gorgeous park, stands a shiny black carriage, pulled by two beautifully decorated black stallions. A coachman sits up on the bench seat, and stepping down from the back of the velvet-lined carriage is Hugo, dressed in what has to be a short-notice rented period-appropriate tuxedo, complete with a tophat and a cane in one hand, and in the opposite, a virulently blooming bouquet.

  
  
Damien is stunned speechless and frozen in place, eyes wide and mouth agape. He suddenly feels very underdressed compared to Hugo, in just a simple lace-fringed blouse and riding pants. He feels his face heat up, and blinks stupidly for several moments, before he’s drawn out of his stupor by a hand on his arm. He looks down into Lucien’s eyes, who gives him a little smirk.

  
  
“Hey, I’ll just drive the car home, if that’s okay?”

  
  
Damien can only dumbly nod and hand the keys over to Lucien, who immediately makes his way to the car, a sandwich dangling from his arm in a bag.

  
  
Hugo makes his way over to Damien and holds out the bouquet to him. He's blushing like mad, but doesn't let his embarrassment deter him.

  
  
"Don't be too mad at him alright? Most of this was his idea. Though I thought of the flowers and added the cane. Completed the outfit you know?" He says. He bows as elegantly as he can with his hands full and gestures to the carriage with the cane. "If you would care to join me, I do have the carriage rented for an hour and our dear coachman is ready to take us for a little jaunt around the city before we stop for dinner. If you want." He pauses, standing back up and looking nervous. "I understand if you don't. I would still be mad at me too."

  
  
“This was... _Lucien’s_ idea?” Damien says breathlessly, his hand reaching up over his heart. He can barely speak above a whisper, he’s so completely floored by what he’s seeing. He’s wanted to dress Hugo up for some time now, but due to his imposing size, he’d always assumed the cost of tailoring him a suit would be too intimidating for him.

  
  
And by god does he look good. The suit isn’t an exact fit, obviously, he must have rented it from one of the many period shops around Salem in a pinch, and taken whatever they had that would fit him, but it doesn’t even matter. He looks so good. The pale, warm pewter grey looks divine against his dark brown skin, and his mustache makes him look more dignified than ever.

  
  
"He said you've been pretty down for a while now," Hugo says. Damien still hasn't taken the flowers and he's not sure what to think. Is he rejecting him? Is he just too stunned by all of this? It's hard to tell. "I have been too, Damien. I've missed you. So much. I must have written a dozen letters but none of them seemed good enough to send to tell you how sorry I am and how much I want to fix everything between us. I love you, I don't want this to be the end for us."

  
  
Damien finally tears his eyes away from Hugo’s face, and he looks down at the flowers. He takes stock of every flower inside the bouquet, and he knows that they were carefully chosen by Hugo to have meaning, but right now he’s so frazzled that he can’t really process them past the fact that they’re gorgeous. He looks back up at Hugo’s face.

  
  
“I... I don’t want that either,” he says, trying to shake himself out of some of his stupor. “I- if you can forgive me. I know I used some... fairly harsh language in the heat of the moment. If you can forgive me for the things I said to you while cross, I... I would like to move forward, yes.”

  
  
Hugo smiles, then grins and wraps his arms around Damien in a tight hug, unable to keep himself from laughing despite the tears in his eyes. "Harsh? Damien, you barely said you were angry at me. After how awful I was and what Ernest said. You deserved to be so much meaner than you were. You have no idea what Vic- never mind. I don't want to talk about that now."

  
  
He pulls back and kisses Damien. "I love you. There's nothing for me to forgive. I hope you can forgive me for everything that happened."

  
  
“You were already forgiven,” Damien sags into Hugo’s arms. He feels absolutely complete, wrapped up once again in his embrace. He follows Hugo’s lead to the carriage and holds his hand as he steps up into the velvety seats, relaxing back against the cushions. Hugo hands him the flowers again as he takes his own seat, and the driver spurs the horses into movement.

  
  
Damien rests his head against Hugo’s shoulder as he looks down into the flowers, spending a little more time identifying each one. Blue hyacinth for continuing love, lavender for devotion, white roses for the pure worth of a lover, beautiful curling ferns for sincerity and coriander for hidden worth, and- Damien laughs, and tears come to his eyes as he takes stock of the final flower of the bunch.

  
  
“Hugo, I- this is so beautiful, I love them, I’m not laughing at you. Begonias- they have a dual meaning. They can be given to someone who you feel has a dreamy and innocent nature- but more commonly they’re used to warn someone to beware. This is the flower you drop at a crime scene to let the cops know you’re not done with your spree just yet.”

  
  
"What?" Hugo asks, instantly pulling out his phone to google the meaning. He checks the entry and starts to laugh. "I had no idea. What kind of double meaning is that? Innocence and warning. Who thought of that?"He keeps laughing as he puts his phone away again and settles against Damien once more. "I'm sorry. At least they're pretty, aren't they? I'll be more careful next time."

  
  
“They’re _beautiful_ ,” Damien says emphatically, stroking a petal with a warm smile. He tears his eyes away from the flowers to look up at the passing sights of Salem, all the beautiful leaves at the height of their turn into gold and orange, all the decorations already starting to get set up around Salem more than a month in advance. It’s all so incredibly beautiful.

  
  
When he looks up, he catches Hugo staring dreamily down at him and he smiles faintly, rubbing his face against Hugo’s arm. He embraces his arm in both of his and sighs happily. Everything feels right again, those days spent alone in his house when he was uncertain what the future of their relationship even was gave him plenty of time to think.

  
  
“Hugo,” he starts, his voice somewhat faraway and wistful. “I... love Ernest.” he looks up at him. “I love Ernest. I love him.”

  
  
Hugo's smile turns a little sad and he wraps an arm around Damien, holding him closer. He’s not even sure he could recall a time he ever heard Victor say he loved Ernest out loud, past the age of 6. "I know you do. It was obvious when you were with me in the hospital. And, I love Lucien. I'm sorry if it seemed like I don't. And Ernest will come to love you one day too, he just needs to get to know you. And to get all those terrible things Victor has been telling him out of his head."

  
  
He sighs. "It'll take a while and I'm sorry about that. But it's hard to imagine him opening up easily when he can barely stand me. And you should know, what he said to Lucien really had nothing to do with you. He didn't mean it, he just said the worst thing he could think of at the time. It's because he's angry with me."

  
  
“I know,” Damien says, watching the cobblestone streets slowly trundle past, accompanied by the musical sound of horseshoes on stone. “He’s in so much pain, it hurts me to see, I can’t even imagine how you struggle. I think deep down he’s a very kind boy, he’s just so frightened. He’s so bright and creative and sensitive, and... I just want to take away all his pain and fear.”

  
  
"I do too. I don't know where to start though. I've got him starting therapy and anger management next week. I'm hoping that will help but...I feel so powerless sometimes, in the face of his pain. I don't know what I've done wrong or what to do better." He shakes his head. "You've done so well with Lucien, he loves you so much and even if he acts out now and then you two have a beautiful relationship. What's your secret? What are you doing that I'm doing wrong?"

  
  
“I don’t think you’re doing anything particularly wrong,” Damien says, rubbing his fingers over the back of Hugo’s knuckles. “I think... Lucien has never had to split up his attention or love, and neither have I. I’ve always been alone, all his life, it’s always been just the two of us, since he was born and right up until you and I began courting. There was never any doubt in his mind who was my top priority. I think Ernest may not feel so sure. Not to mention, fourteen is such a rough age... you didn’t see all the warts of my relationship with Lucien behind closed doors when he was that age. Sixteen doesn’t seem like very much older, but there’s so much emotional maturing for Ernest left to do. I think, as poor as this situation is for all parties involved, that he will grow from it.”

  
  
"I hope so. I really hope so." Hugo says. He's quiet for a minute, not sure if this is the time to bring up what Ernest had said when they got home from the meeting at school. But the door is open and he desperately needs Damien's advice.

  
  
"Victor has been bad mouthing me to Ernest." He says softly. "Ernest said as much when we got home from the principal's meeting. He said when he's over there, Victor talks about how angry and mean I am all the time. I don't think I'm angry and mean. I don't try to be, just the opposite. And I don't think it's right for Victor to say things like that to Ernest. Even if it's true."

  
  
Damien looks up at Hugo worriedly. “That’s... troubling,” he says, and something more bubbles up just beneath the surface. He can’t quite bring himself to keep completely silent about it. “I... don’t mean to speak ill of someone you once loved, but... am I completely incorrect in my assumption that, given all the facts and details I have learned over the past several months... Victor is not a terribly... nice man?”

  
  
Hugo slowly shakes his head. "No. He's not. He's never been cruel to Ernest which is why I don't keep them apart. If I ever thought he talked to Ernest the way he talked to me sometimes I would never allow him to visit. It's not that he's cruel. Not intentionally. But he's... opinionated. And if you disagree with him he can be very... dismissive of your opinions and feelings."

  
  
“Well... it sounds like a meeting with Victor may be in order,” He says, giving Hugo’s arm a comforting squeeze. “Do you suppose you have the courage for that on your own, or would you like for me to be there?”

  
  
He takes Damien's hand and gives it a squeeze. "I'd like you to be there. You don't have to say anything, but having you there with me will boost my confidence. And I need that when I talk to him. Somehow I always end up apologizing even when I know it wasn't my fault."

  
  
Damien squeezes Hugo’s hand in return, a silent promise that he’ll be there. He rubs his cheek against the soft fabric of Hugo’s jacket. The silence is comforting for a moment, and he only breaks it to say, “I’m going to tell Lucien that you said you love him, if that’s alright with you,” and he looks up at him again. “Would you tell Ernest that I said I love him?”

  
  
"Of course I will. And yes, it's alright if you tell Lucien. But also tell him if he brings it up in school I will assign him extra homework." Hugo says with a laugh. "Ernest is going to send you an apology letter soon. He's been working hard on it. And one for Lucien too. I really hope someday they can be friends again."

  
  
“I think they will be,” Damien says wistfully, relaxing once more into Hugo’s embrace. “We’re sort of a family now. They don’t really have a choice.”

  
  
Their laughter is only just barely louder than the rhythmic clopping of the horse’s hooves, as the cart blissfully bounces along, carrying the consoling pair of lovers. 


End file.
